The Cost of Pride
by jodm
Summary: A case brings two estranged friends together on the gritty streets of San Francisco. Can the wounds that separate them be healed? Maybe . . . with a little help from Lt. Mike Stone. A Five-O - Streets of San Francisco story


**THE COST OF PRIDE**

* * *

_Hawaii Five-O and The Streets of San Francisco belong to others. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is derived by this story._

_The story is set in 1980 after the conclusion of both series. It is a possible explanation for Danny's leaving Five-O at the end of season 11 – and what happens afterwards. _

* * *

_**San Francisco, late April 1980**_

Inspector Dan Williams, SFPD, grabbed a cup of coffee, shuddering as he swallowed a mouthful. _Yuck! Haseejian must have made it! This stuff could dissolve a spoon. _He sat at his desk, shuffled through the files in his inbox, and pulled open the morning final of the _Chronicle. _Their last case had been difficult and he and his partner, Lt. Mike Stone, had taken a few well-deserved days off. Dan had gone camping at Pt. Reyes National Seashore. _Backpacking on a beach! _He savored the memory. He'd try the Sierras this summer. All part of making a new start in a new life.

He skimmed the first page or two, then stopped short at the national news pages. A memory stabbed his heart as he saw a picture of his old boss. _Hawaii Five-O Head Captures Chinese Master Spy_ the caption read. Almost automatically he reached for the phone, then pulled his hand back before he could pick up the receiver. _I'm the last person Steve would want to talk to._

Memories of that last horrible day at Five-O flooded his mind as he dropped his face into his hands.

Mike Stone's shadow fell across his desk and a soft voice cut into his swirling thoughts. "Something bothering you, Kiddo? Wanna talk about it?" The older detective's concern was evident in his voice. He'd wondered when something like this was coming. At his partner's nod, Mike motioned them into his office and closed the door.

"OK, Danny," Stone began. "What's going on? I figured you'd be rested after hiking for three days!"

"McGarrett," Danny started, then found himself choking up. He couldn't continue-the re-surfacing emotions were too strong.

"What about McGarrett?" Mike gently questioned.

Bit by bit, the story came out: Steve, once again playing the lone wolf, taking off on another dangerous undercover mission; no backup; telling no one where he was; leaving no way of contacting him. Then that final confrontation after a rocky conclusion to the case. Discussion becoming argument; argument rapidly moving into accusation and recrimination. The final blow: a furious Steve demanding his badge. Shocked into silence, Danny had placed his I.D., gun, and keys on the desk and walked out of Five-O and Steve McGarrett's life forever.

Mike gripped Danny's shoulders and allowed the emotions to run their course. "I'm not Steve McGarrett," he said quietly.

Dan fingered a photo on Mike's desk. "And I'm not Steve Keller."

"No," the lieutenant answered. "But you are my partner - and my friend. Now, how about if I buy you a cup of coffee and a donut and we look over today's cases?"

"Coffee sounds good," Danny replied with the beginnings of a grin. "Just not Haseejian's!"

_o-o-o-o-o_

_**Honolulu**_

Steve McGarrett rifled through the stack of reports on his desk, stopping short at one that brought back some painful memories. _The Vashon family! _Rumors had surfaced that a Vashon nephew now claimed leadership of one of Hawaii's most powerful crime families. Pierre Vashon. The name was familiar. He'd been living in San Francisco, was possibly involved with smuggling operations on the docks, drugs, weapons, and other contraband. Definitely trouble. He'd have Duke check into the man's background. _Maybe I'll need to fly over to the City._

He picked up his cooling cup of coffee and stepped out on the lanai, his sanctuary. As if this threat wasn't enough, he had to find a new second-in-command. _Twice in less than a year!_

He'd known Kimo Carew was ambitious when he hired the man to replace Danno – _As if anyone could replace Danno! _– but he'd expected Carew to stick around for a while, not take a position as Chief of Detectives in Oakland. Not for the first time, he regretted that final meeting with his once closest friend. "Danno," he whispered, "Where did you go?"

_o-o-o-o-o_

_**San Francisco**_

Frank Nardini, ex-cop, ex-inmate, hefted the new .38 pistol. _Amazing what you could get if you had the right connections. _And he had them in the Vashons. King of the dockyards, that was Pierre Vashon. He planned to exploit his connections to the crime boss. But first, he had a personal score to settle with Lt. Mike Stone. He aimed the pistol at a heart-high spot on the wall and pretended to pull the trigger. "Soon," he muttered, "Soon." Then he'd head for Hawaii to handle that commission for Vashon: Kill Steve McGarrett.

_o-o-o-o-o_

Pistol safely stowed in a shoulder holster and covered with a windbreaker, the ex-cop sauntered down the Embarcadero toward China Basin. "Stone first," he thought, "Then that meddling priest Scarne." They were the ones who'd broken up his little internal espionage operation. Keller could wait until later; the man was a professor over in Berkeley and out of SFPD. He stopped at a rundown office building and read the sign near the door. "Interstate Shipping Company," Vashon's cover for his lucrative smuggling and drug-running business, one that would increase in value with McGarrett out of the way. Nardini expected good money for this hit, that and maybe a long-term business arrangement. He'd provided enough information for these guys, kept them out of jail while he took the rap. They owed him! A good hit man for hire could set any price he wanted.

Vashon's office was in direct contrast to the gritty neighborhood. Comfortable furnishings, imposing desk – no mistaking who was boss here – original and expensive artwork; all meant to express the tastes of a man of culture who could take ownership of the finest things for granted.

The crime boss picked up a bottle of aged Scotch from a small corner bar. "Drink?" he offered. Nardini accepted and sipped the beverage with appreciation. Someday soon he'd be able to afford stuff like this. Vashon poured one for himself and sat behind the desk.

"You have your assignment." It was not a question. "McGarrett will be coming to the City soon. I have had my contacts plant just enough information to make him think that I am taking over the family business. He will, of course, want to investigate my operation here."

"Of course. But why not just contact SFPD?"

"McGarrett is a lone wolf. He'll want to run the investigation himself. You will wait until he arrives, then kill him. If you manage to kill Lt. Stone as well, so much the better." Noting the rogue cop's surprise, he went on, "Yes, I know about your vendetta. This time, it's in line with my own. Stone has come too close, too often, to disrupting my business."

"You'll get me information on McGarrett's movements?"

"You'll have it." Vashon studied his hired gun. "I have only one stipulation. I want to be there when you kill McGarrett. I want to see the look on his face when you pull that trigger."

_o-o-o-o-o  
_

"Danny Boy," Mike looked up from the report he'd been studying, "We've got trouble. Nardini."

"Nardini?"

"Before your time. He was a rogue cop, passed information to the local drug gangs. Steve and I put him away after he tried to kill one of our informants. He's been released early – on good behavior." Stone shook his head in disgust. "There's a rumor he's working with Pierre Vashon."

"The Vashons!" Dan's surprise was written all over his face. "Five-O put several members of that family away a few years ago. I wonder if McGarrett knows."

" I don't know," Stone replied. "This Vashon is on our turf. He supposedly runs a legitimate shipping business, but we have reason to believe he's involved in drug running. If Nardini's working for him . . ."

"We've got a problem," Dan finished. "I'll check on Vashon's current operations. Maybe I can find something that hints at what he's up to."

"Run down Nardini's current info while you're at it. I want to know everything about where he is and what he's doing." Mike's gruff demeanor hid an undercurrent of worry. "I'd better contact Steve Keller. Nardini will be gunning for both of us."

"And I might be a target for Vashon. He'll want revenge against Five-O."

"As long as he and Nardini don't know about you," Mike said thoughtfully, "We might have an advantage." He slapped Danny's shoulder. "Let's see how we can use that advantage." He thought for a moment. "I might have to call McGarrett. How do you feel about that?"

"I'll manage," Dan responded quietly. "I'm an SFPD officer, not at Five-O any longer. I'll manage."

Mike headed for his office. _I hope so, Kiddo; I hope so. _ He'd read the pain in his partner's voice.

_o-o-o-o-o  
_

"Buddy Boy!" Mike's greeting always brought a smile to Steve Keller's face. There were times when the criminology professor missed police work, but he counted himself fortunate in his abiding friendship with his former partner.

"Mike! What's up? We still on for that Giants-Dodgers game this weekend?" He'd picked up a hint of something in his friend's voice.

"You bet!" the detective replied. "Actually, I called to warn you – Nardini's out. Be careful. I'd feel better if you'd stay with me for a few days. I want you safe!"

Steve was touched. "I'll be OK, Mike. I'm at school most of the day and I can stay on campus at night."

"There's more," Stone broke in. "Nardini's working with Vashon."

"Then he's out to get you and maybe Father Scarne, too." Steve shook his head. The past had a way of catching up with a guy. "What about Danny? How's he working out?" Keller tried to change the subject.

Mike wasn't buying it. "He's shaping up. A couple of years of my training and he'll be almost as good as you! Now, are you coming over here after class today?"

Steve gave in. "Order a pizza. I'll see you around six." He'd bring his old police .38

_o-o-o-o-o  
_

Father Joe Scarne swallowed the last of who knew how many cups of coffee. Time to call it a day. He'd drop in on Mike Stone and his new partner; he'd picked up some news on his rounds among the old dock workers that Stone and Williams needed to hear. He headed for SFPD.

"So you heard that Nardini's hanging around the China Basin docks?" Mike questioned his old friend. "Any idea what he's doing there?"

"Scuttlebutt is he's looking for work. He's also packing a weapon, maybe a .38."

"Sounds like that 'work' might include murder," Williams smirked. "You think he's being paid by someone?

"Don't know," the priest replied. "Could be Vashon. One of the guys saw him leaving the Interstate Shipping office this afternoon. You two watch out for yourselves. Keller, too."

"Watch out for yourself, too," Stone cautioned.

_o-o-o-o-o_

_**Honolulu**_

McGarrett looked over the report Duke left on his desk "Pierre Vashon," he read, "President of Interstate Shipping. Controls several contracts on the docks. Office on the lower end of Townsend Street." He visualized the area. "Pretty rough neighborhood, part of the old China Basin. Could be a good cover for a drug-running operation." He'd call Chief Devitt at SFPD and set up a meeting.

"Duke!" he buzzed the detective. "Could you come to my office for a minute?" He'd learned a hard lesson a few months ago: he'd fill Duke in and leave him in charge of the unit while he was away.

"Morning, Steve," the older detective greeted his boss. "What's up?"

"The Vashons again. There's a story going around that Pierre plans to take over the family business here. I think a short trip to San Francisco might help clear things up. Could you handle things until I get back?

"Of course, Steve," Lukela replied. "How long will you be gone?"

" A few days at most. I'll take an afternoon flight. I'll leave contact information with you and keep you posted." He straightened the papers on his desk. "I'll ask Truck to drive me to the airport. And thanks."

Almost on a whim, he reached deep into a desk drawer and pulled out a battered badge case. He opened it, looked at the contents, and slipped the case into a coat pocket.

_o-o-o-o-o_

_**San Francisco **_

"Morning, Mike," Dan yawned. "Thanks for the pizza. Good to see Steve last night. He certainly seems to enjoy teaching. I never thought I'd see him on that side of the desk after some of the stunts we pulled at Berkeley!"

Stone laughed. "So I heard!" Changing the subject, he continued, "Got any information for me?"

"Something on Nardini, an address in Daly City. Might be a girlfriend's. I asked the local police to keep a discreet eye on the place, let us know if and when he shows up. Nothing yet on any vehicles. It's not much, but it's a start."

"Thanks. Keep digging, will you? Check with your snitches later. I've got a meeting with some of the narcotics guys—their undercover people might have some info on Vashon. See you in about an hour."

Dan was lost in work when he sensed someone standing near his desk and a voice he never expected to hear again said "Steve McGarrett for Lt. Stone." He looked up into the face of his former boss, his eyes wide in recognition.

"Danno!" Steve extended his hand.

"Mr. McGarrett." Dan kept his tone deliberately formal. "Mike's at a meeting. Would you like to wait in his office?"

"_Steve. You used to call me Steve, Aikane." _McGarrett pushed the thought into the background as he answered "Thanks, Inspector," and followed Williams to the glassed-in enclosure. He decided to try one more time.

"Danno," hoping the use of the familiar nickname would break the icy wall Dan had built around himself, "How are you? I've missed you. I'd really like to talk with you . . ."

"I . . . I can't right now. Maybe later." At least Dan hadn't completely closed the door. "I'll find Mike for you. Would you like some coffee while you're waiting?" He nearly smiled. "It's drinkable." He handed Steve a cup.

McGarrett watched as his friend – he hoped Dan was still his friend – left in search of his partner. _Oh, Danno. How could I hurt you this badly?_

Steve stared out the window in Stone's small office. He looked over towards Coit Tower and Russian Hill as he watched the gulls wheeling in the blue sky.

"McGarrett?" He turned at the sound of Stone's voice. "What can I do for you? Danny tells me you're checking into the activities of Interstate Shipping. Something to do with Vashon."

Steve nodded. "The Vashon family has been a thorn in the side of Five-O and HPD for years. We've managed to put some of them away, but I've received some information that the nephew, Pierre, plans to take over their operation in Honolulu."

"We've had him under surveillance for a while, trying to find evidence to get him for smuggling drugs," Mike told the Hawaiian detective. "We also think he's hired an ex-con named Nardini to provide some extra muscle. Nardini's a rogue cop – he almost got my former partner during a sting operation. He plea-bargained the charge down to assault and now he's out for good behavior."

"So this man could be seeking revenge?"

"Yeah. Keller and I are targets." Seeing a question in McGarrett's eyes, the lieutenant continued, "He doesn't know about Danny, although Vashon might. And that's another problem."

"Danno."

Stone's voice grew even more serious. "Danny told me what happened. He's been badly hurt by it, but he's worked through most of it, at least I thought he had."

Stone could hear the sadness in the other man's voice as he replied, "He was only trying to protect me and I took his badge. By the time I'd cooled down enough to realize what I'd done, he was gone. Now there's a gap between us as wide as San Francisco Bay. How do I even begin to close it?"

"Like the way they built the Golden Gate. Piece by piece." Mike looked McGarrett in the eye. "Danny's a great cop and a great partner, one of the best I've ever worked with. I'd hate to lose him, but if he ever wanted to return to Five-O, I'd let him go. Just one thing: It would have to be his decision, not yours."

Steve recognized the truth in the other man's words. He muttered a quiet "Thanks."

"Now that we've got that out of the way, let's get down to business on the case. I'll sign out a car for you and get you access to any records and help you might need. I'll assign Inspector Bill Tanner to work with you. He knows his way around the City better than Danny does." Mike chuckled, "Almost a year and he still gets lost around Divisidero! Dispatch must be tired of giving him directions."

Mike motioned for Tanner and excused himself, saying he had another appointment. He shrugged into his old raincoat, settled his trademark fedora on his head and left, saying he'd be back soon.

_o-o-o-o-o  
_

Danny sat on a bench near the end of Fisherman's Wharf. It had been a frustrating and surprising morning and he needed to sort out his thoughts. First, Steve. Williams wondered why he'd acted so cold towards his former boss; after all, the man had once been a close friend. They'd worked together for eleven years, for God's sake. They'd always had each other's back, watched out for one another, even saved one another's lives a few times. Until that last case. It had just become too much. He wanted to, knew he had to, talk to Steve. He just didn't know how.

He'd batted zero with his snitches, too. Either they didn't know anything or were too frightened to reveal what they did know. He'd try the old China Basin docks next. Somewhere among the rotting piers and decaying vessels he just might find someone who'd seen something useful. He got his car from a nearby lot and drove towards the Bay Bridge.

_o-o-o-o-o  
_

Father Scarne concluded the noon Mass at Old St. Mary's and waved to Mike Stone. It wasn't the usual thing—Mike at an afternoon service. The 6 AM was more his style. Scarne greeted the detective and invited him for coffee. Neither man saw a shadowy figure slip behind a pillar as they went by.

Nardini replaced his gun in its holster and pulled his windbreaker closed. A couple of questions at the Seamen's Center and he'd known where to find the priest. He'd planned to take care of the man after Mass. He hadn't counted on finding Stone there. _I could get one, but not both_. He watched the men leave and then exited by a different door, As far as anyone was concerned, he was just another parishioner

Scarne sipped his coffee. "No sign of Nardini around the docks, but I did get an odd call from the Center. Someone looking for me, supposedly had some important information. When they told him I was here, the guy said he'd see me after Mass. You didn't notice anyone, did you?"

At Mike's negative response, the priest continued, "Must not have been that important."

"I want a description of the man," Stone put in. "I'll drive – an officer will bring your car later. I don't want that old bucket of bolts to break down and block traffic. Danny's down in that area, too. I'll have Dispatch notify him to join us."

_o-o-o-o-o  
_

A groggy Danny Williams forced himself to a sitting position and gingerly felt his swollen jaw. _Must have one heck of a bruise. _He shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. The pieces of the puzzle slowly put themselves together. He'd been just outside Vashon's office when he was grabbed by two gorillas, dragged into a nearby alley and dumped roughly on the ground. _Vashon! Vashon had been there!_

"McGarrett's little cop," the man snarled. "Tell your boss I've got something for him." Vashon signaled to the thugs as they hauled him to his feet. "Give him something to remember me by, then dump him!" After that, nothing.

Williams managed to reach his car, only to find the tires slashed. Painfully, he crawled inside and picked up the mic. "Williams," he choked out. " Call Stone. Tell him 'officer needs help,' corner of Third and Townsend." He dropped the mic and leaned his head against the dashboard. The next thing he remembered was Mike practically lifting him out of the car.

"Wake up, Kiddo!" the worried detective's voice shook. "You get hit by a truck?"

"No. Vashon's thugs," Danny recounted the incident. "He's after McGarrett! We've got to warn him."

"Let me look at that bruise first," Scarne commanded. "I was a medic before I became a priest." He examined the injury and added, "Ice and aspirin. Mike, if he shows any sign of a concussion, take him to the ER. I've got to get back to the Center."

"I'm fine," Dan grumbled. "Please, we've got to tell McGarrett."

Mike bundled Danny into the car. Calling Dispatch, he instructed them to send another detective to the Seamen's Center to get a description of the man who'd been looking for Scarne. Then, with a final "You sure you're OK?" he headed for the office.

_o-o-o-o-o  
_

Steve McGarrett yawned. _Sometimes police work felt more like paperwork!_ He smiled at the thought as he and Tanner finally finished reviewing the files on Nardini and Vashon. "A couple of nasty characters," he remarked. "It's time we get them off the streets." He wondered how Mike and Danno were doing. He hated being stuck behind a desk when others – _Face it, McGarrett, Danno!_ – were out on the streets without him.

A commotion in the outer office made the men look up to see Stone helping a bedraggled Danny to his desk. He saw one of the other detectives run for more ice as Mike held a makeshift cold pack to his partner's jaw. In an instant, he was at Dan's side, paperwork forgotten.

"What happened to him?" A typical McGarrett bark, gruffness masking the man's concern. He reached for Dan's face, wanting to get a better look at the injury.

"Ow! Steve, don't!" Dan pulled away. "It hurts too much!" He recognized the typical anxiety in his former boss's eyes. "I'm fine. It's just a little knock on the jaw."

"A little knock that knocked you out!' Stone growled. "Vashon and two of his thugs. One held him while the other punched. Now just sit there."

It took only a few minutes to fill McGarrett in on the day's events. "So Vashon has something for me," he considered. "Maybe a bullet?"

"And possibly Nardini as the hit man," Mike finished. He motioned Tanner to his office, leaving Steve and Danny alone.

"You're really all right?" McGarrett sought reassurance. "I should have gone with you . . ."

"Steve," Danny interrupted, unconsciously using the man's familiar name, "It wasn't your responsibility." He looked away. "I'm at SFPD now."

"Are you happy here?" Steve risked the question.

"I learned a lot from you and Five-O." Danny's voice was laced with reluctance. "And I'm learning from Mike, too. He's a great teacher. That's the best answer I can give you." He noticed Stone watching them. "I think Mike wants a conference."

The senior detective smiled slightly as he watched the two men. _Piece by piece._

_o-o-o-o-o  
_

"Idiot! Fool!" Pierre Vashon raged. "Your damned impatience could ruin everything. McGarrett first!" Anger spilled like the wrath of Pele. Nardini backed away from the enraged crime boss. "You nearly gave everything away!"

"Look, Mr. Vashon, I'm sorry. Stone has to be eliminated. He's as big a problem as McGarrett." Nardini tried to remain calm. "Why not kill them both at the same time?"

Vashon considered the suggestion. "Why not? With the right bait, we could lure them both into a trap." He poured a drink – he didn't offer the rogue cop one – and continued. "A set-up: a fake drug payoff. Tomorrow night, say around 2 PM at the old Dogpatch docks off Third. It's a rough neighborhood. A few gunshots - nobody would pay attention, too common there. Then two dead cops."

"And anyone else who gets in the way."

"We'll use the old warehouse—get word to the cops that a drug drop is going down. I'll have one of my runners drop a hint at Scarne's center. He'll tell Stone. It's bait the cops can't resist." Vashon developed his plan. "Two dead cops – and I'm king."

_o-o-o-o-o  
_

Stone stepped out of his office, coffee mug in hand. He picked up the nearly full pot. "Who made this one?"

A chorus of voices answered, "Haseejian!" The Armenian detective was famous for his nearly undrinkable brew.

"Good and strong, just the way I like it," Mike commented loudly enough for the rest of the squad room to hear. He motioned to Steve. "Want some?"

McGarrett caught Danny's grimace as the younger man mouthed silently, "Don't." Another reminder of a lost past.

"How you doing, Kiddo?" Dan winced as Mike gently squeezed his shoulder. "Looks like it's time for you to go home. Keller will be here after his last class. He'll take you to my place—you're both staying with me tonight. That way I can keep an eye on you two and you can help him grade student papers from his criminology class." Mike's teasing was gentle, but pointed. He wanted to keep them safe.

"C'mon Mike!" Dan sputtered. "I'll be fine at home! I don't need a babysitter! And grading papers brings back too many memories of trying to find time to write them. You kept me pretty busy when I interned with you back then!"

Stone grinned at McGarrett. "Is he always this uncooperative?'

"I think I taught him too well," Steve responded, shrugging his shoulders. How he'd missed this!

Dan blushed as the banter continued for a few more minutes. He had to admit that the teasing felt good. No, it felt right, especially from Steve.

Keller's entrance, a stack of papers in his hand, brought the conversation to an end. He handed the material to McGarrett. "This just came in for you. It's some background reports from Detective Lukela. Tanner asked me to give them to you."

Steve nodded his thanks, then asked "Is there anywhere I can read these?"

"You can use Danny's desk," Mike grinned. "He and Hotshot here are on their way to my place."

Dan and Keller exchanged a look. They both knew better than to argue with the boss!

Stone turned to McGarrett. "You'll be staying at the Center with Father Scarne tonight. You can watch out for each other and he'll fill you in on what's happening along the waterfront." Noting the other detective's expression, he growled, "I want you to get back to Five-O in one healthy piece! This is my turf. Don't argue with me."

The two younger men barely stifled their laughter. It looked like only Mike Stone could get away with giving orders to Steve McGarrett!

_o-o-o-o-o  
_

Five AM. Steve stretched and brushed his hair off his forehead. His sleep had been troubled. He'd grown uncomfortable after reading the material Duke sent, as there seemed to be no evidence of Vashon's planning a move on his family's operations in Hawaii. Scarne's descriptions of the action on the waterfront pointed more to a sophisticated network of drug and weapons trafficking out of San Francisco. So why the rumors? To get him here?

Then, the shock – he could only name it that – of finding Danno at SFPD. Seeing his former second-in-command roughed up and in danger and being unable to protect him was frightening. _I know what Danno felt that last day! How could I have missed it? He was worried for me! Concerned about my safety! I've got to get him back! _He pulled the old badge case out of his pocket, studying it intently. _What do I say to him? He won't even look at me._

A gritty voice jarred him out of his thoughts. "Reconciliation. You both need it."

Steve vowed he'd find a way.

_o-o-o-o-o  
_

Dan yawned as he reached for another cup of coffee. Keller passed him a plate of donuts. He grabbed a chocolate frosted one and munched contentedly. "Steve always gave me a hard time when I'd bring in donuts for breakfast. He'd tell me they were bad for my health." Dan's voice was wistful as he wandered in memories of another time and place.

"You miss Five-O, don't you?

Williams nodded. "I do. But mostly I miss Steve. He was my friend for so long until . . ." Dan couldn't finish. He ran his hand through his sandy curls. "Don't get me wrong, Mike's great! He gave me the chance I needed at a rough time. I owe him a lot."

Keller looked at his watch. "Speaking of time, you need to get to the office and I've got a class at 11! I'll drop you off—and thanks for the help with those papers. I ought to have you as a guest speaker sometime. Those kids are tired of hearing about my adventures!"

"As a cop or a student?" Dan snickered. He and Keller got up to go. They never noticed the grizzled older man following them.

_o-o-o-o-o  
_

"Keller's on his way to Berkeley," the greying man reported. "Stone and Williams are at SFPD. Don't know about McGarrett. He didn't show at Stone's last night."

Vashon handed the man a twenty. Small change, but he'd just drink it up anyway. "I've got one more job for you today." He passed over another bill. "Go to Scarne's place and drop a hint about a job going down in Dogpatch around 2 AM tonight. Make him think it's something big. You don't need to know what or why." He seen the question written on the old informer's face. "Now get going!" He watched as the guy left, then motioned to another man sitting half-hidden in the shadows.

"The bait is set. Our fish will show—they won't be able to resist. I want you and a couple of the boys there tonight, around midnight. Make sure you're not seen. I'll join you. Remember—McGarrett first, then Stone. The boys will take care of the rest."

Nardini's expression was almost predatory. He ran his fingers over the handle of his gun and sauntered out of the office. Only a few more hours!

Vashon followed the rogue cop and signaled to the thugs who acted as his bodyguard. "After he kills McGarrett, kill him. That is, if Stone doesn't get him first. Now get going and make sure everything's set up."

_o-o-o-o-o  
_

"This doesn't make sense," McGarrett growled. "There's nothing, absolutely nothing in any of this stuff about Vashon taking over business in Hawaii. Then Joe Scarne calls to tell us that an old drunk says there's something going down on the docks tonight. Add in those thugs using Danno as a punching bag to send me a message. There's just too many coincidences. And I don't believe in coincidences!"

"Neither do I," Stone agreed.

"I think it's a trap," Dan volunteered. "Steve," worry shadowed his bright blue eyes, "It's a set up. Vashon wants you dead."

"Motive?" At least Danno was talking to him.

The answer was simple. "Revenge. Revenge for putting so many members of his family behind bars." He sensed a response building in his old boss. "I'm not important, but you are! To him I'm just another cop."

_Oh, Danno, how could you think that! Don't you know how important you are to Five-O? To me? _The thought remained unspoken as McGarrett said, "So, if it's a trap, how do we spring it?"

"We set a trap of our own," Mike smirked. "And here's how we're going to do it."

_o-o-o-o-o  
_

The rough-and-tumble area locally known as Dogpatch was foreboding under the best of conditions. Tonight, with the chill, damp Bay Area fog swirling through the streets, it seemed especially dangerous. Danny, following a few steps behind Steve, pulled his pistol from its holster. He looked around carefully, alert for any sign of trouble. His self-appointed task: keep Steve McGarrett safe, alive. What it might cost him was unimportant.

A whisper of movement and a flash of streetlights reflected off a gun barrel caught his attention. Nardini? Dan rushed forward, shouting a warning "Steve!" as he pushed McGarrett out of the gunman's path. He felt rather than heard the shot that crashed into his upper arm. A searing pain left him breathless and dizzy. He felt himself falling. His last thoughts as he dove into a pool of darkness centered on Steve: Was he safe?

McGarrett spun around at the sound of the gunshot, only to see Danny grab his left arm and crumple to the ground. He hardly heard the shots from Stone's gun that knocked Nardini out of the fight. He didn't see Tanner and another officer wrestle Vashon to the ground or hear Mike's "Book 'em. Attempted murder for a start," as officers rounded up the remaining assailants. He only cared about the wounded detective lying unconscious in the street, the friend who was willing to give his life to save him.

"Danno! Stay with me! I've got you!" Steve was frantic with worry. "I lost you once. I won't lose you again!" He did the best he could to control the bleeding, to give Williams a sense, somehow, of safety. He felt helpless in the face of the younger man's pain.

Dan struggled against the blackness that dragged him down. He forced his eyes open to find himself looking into McGarrett's face. His friend, always his friend was alive, unharmed. He fought to say what he wanted to say so often these past months: "Sorry, Steve, so sorry . . ."

The black hole opened up and he slipped into a pool of darkness.

_o-o-o-o-o  
_

Steve paced the corridor near the surgical waiting room in San Francisco General. How often had he done this before? He'd lost count of the times. All that mattered now was the detective they'd taken through those doors what seemed like hours ago. He wanted, needed information. _Danno! You can't give up. Not now!_

He prayed for a miracle, for reconciliation.

Mike Stone's hand gripped his shoulder. "He'll be OK, Steve. The docs are taking good care of him." The other cop's confidence did nothing to assuage the pain in his heart. _After everything I said, everything I did, Danno was still willing to die for me. Please, God, not tonight. _

"Lt. Stone? Mr. McGarrett?" The surgeon's voice startled the two men. "Inspector Williams is in recovery. The bullet did quite a bit of muscle damage and chipped the bone. He also lost about a pint of blood. He'll be all right, given some time off to rest. We'll be moving him to a room in a few hours." He looked at the detectives. "You both look like you could use some sleep. Why don't you go home and come back later. He'll be awake then."

Steve felt weak with relief. "I'd rather wait here."

Mike shook his head. He'd said the same thing when Steve Keller was in this hospital. He done the same thing, lending his strength to his partner's healing. "Come on, let's get some coffee. Keller's on his way. He'll meet us in the cafeteria. We can see Danny in a couple of hours."

_o-o-o-o-o  
_

Stone, Keller, and McGarrett stood just inside the door of the semi-darkened room. The pale figure in the bed lay there, not moving. Only the soft sound of breathing gave assurance of life.

"He needs you more than he needs us." Stone pushed the dark-haired detective towards the bed. "Stay with him. I'll keep the docs away for a while."

McGarrett pulled a chair as close to the bed as possible and placed his hand on Dan's arm in a familiar gesture of support and affection. If only he'd wake up! Quietly, without forcing it, a year of regret, loss, anger — at himself, never at Dan, friendship, hope, a plea for forgiveness, all tumbled out. He had so much to say, to make up for.

Knowing his friend couldn't respond, he said the words anyway. "I wish you could hear me, Danno."

A soft, slurred voice answered as bright blue eyes opened and looked into his. "I hear you, Steve. Maybe we need to forgive each other . . . and ourselves . . ."

Dan weakly grasped Steve's hand.

Reconciliation.

Mike, still standing by the door, smiled at Steve Keller. "Looks like I'll need to find another partner." The two men quietly left the room, leaving two old friends to their reunion.

_o-o-o-o-o_

_**Epilogue**_

Following Dan's directions, Steve drove down the winding Pt. Reyes roads and pulled into a gravel parking lot at Drake's Bay. The foggy, overcast day gave color to the mood that held the two men. Steve would be returning to Hawaii tomorrow; Dan had a few more days' sick leave before returning to light duty.

They'd spent the last few days talking things out, sharing, healing, pleased to discover that, in spite of separation, in spite of everything, the core of their relationship, their friendship, the sense of brotherhood – ohana – still held, solid, strong, sure. Even if this was good-bye for now . . .

Steve helped the still fragile officer out of the car and they slowly walked the narrow path to the top of the white cliffs that the old British pirate said reminded him of the cliffs of Dover. They stood, looking out over the grey sea, to a distant fog bank.

"I come here every so often," Danny began, "and I look out toward the west, toward Hawaii . . . Toward home."

"Home," Steve echoed.

The two stood in silence for a few minutes. Steve reached into his pocket and once again pulled out the old badge case, Dan's badge case. He placed his hand on his companion's shoulder. His voice was quiet and warm. "Danno."

Dan turned as Steve pressed the leather case into his hand, cupping his own hands around the other's. "I was hoping . . . hoping you'd want this back." He let go as Danny curled his fingers around the familiar shape.

He gathered his courage and looked at his friend, his kaikaina. The joy in Danny's eyes and the smile that lit up his face – warm, open, trusting, generous, accepting, forgiving – was all the answer they both needed. The last few small pieces of their bond melded together, stronger than before, and their world was once again whole. They were going home.

* * *

_**Historical note: **Pt. Reyes National Seashore is located in Marin County, about 30 miles north of San Francisco. The National Seashore was established in 1962._

_Tradition has it that in 1579, during his circumnavigation of the world, Sir Francis Drake sailed up the California coast as far as Pt. Reyes. Because the light-colored cliffs surrounding a bay just south of the Point reminded him of the white chalk cliffs of his home town of Dover, he named the area "New Albion" and claimed it for England. That area is today known as "Drake's Bay."_


End file.
